I Don't Wanna
by drakien
Summary: Hermione is really getting tired of being the grown-up.


**A/N: This was originally written back at some point in 2006…ergo before we found out how Book 7 ended. Le sigh. It takes place post-Battle, at the end of their 7th Year, and (as I'm sure you've probably gathered), is AU.**

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Hermione Granger was exhausted. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had attacked during the graduation ceremony more than 48 hours ago, and she hadn't slept since. In a battle she was sure would be idealized and recounted with glaring inaccuracies, the Light finally triumphed, and celebrations were still in full-swing. Hermione had finally managed to excuse herself after too many hours in the spotlight and far too many glasses of wine.

She managed to make her way to her room without too much staggering, though it took intense concentration to not see three or four of everything. Stepping inside, she surveyed her surroundings. Lots of books. Clothes tossed here and there. And a large orange cat in the middle of her bed. She made her way over to her wardrobe and grabbed the nightgown closest at hand…her 'good' nightgown.

"Not that there's much point in it," she grumbled as she tossed her school robes into the corner and pulled it over her head.

**ooOOoo**

She was very nearly asleep when she was yanked back to consciousness by someone knocking on her door. Banging, really. In her defense, several factors were working against her; she was still slightly tipsy, half-asleep, and naturally assumed that it was Harry or Ron come to harass her. So without giving any thought to her state of attire, Hermione threw back the covers, stalked over to the door and flung it open.

"If I have to tell you one more time…" she began, but her rant cut off with a muffled 'Eeep!' when she saw who stood there.

"You were saying?" Severus Snape drawled.

Hermione could see that he was swaying slightly, though he quickly leaned nonchalantly against her doorframe.

"Professor," she said, heat rushing to her cheeks as he eyed her up and down brazenly and she somewhat belatedly realized the sight she presented. "Can I help you with something?"

His gaze lingered for a few moments, then he cleared his throat.

"Indeed, I believe you can," he replied huskily as he pushed off the wall and took a step closer to her. She retreated unconsciously as he closed the distance between them, so by the time he reached out to caress her cheek they were well inside her room.

"You are a beautiful young woman, Hermione," he murmured.

Despite her best intentions, her eyes slipped closed as she leaned into his touch. He had moved closer and tangled his hands in her hair before the small part of her brain that was still sober started screeching. She reached up to gently stop his mouth with her fingertips before it could meet her own. It wasn't that she didn't want this. Merlin, she'd had a thing for him since her second year when he'd so thoroughly thrashed that peacock Lockhart. But it couldn't happen like this. Not when they were drunk. He was drunk, wasn't he?

While her internal deliberations went on, Severus had stepped away and turned to her open window, which provided an excellent view of the lake.

"It's all twinkly," he mused.

That sentence answered her question. In fact, she also considered checking on the temperature in Hell, just in case.

"Damn you," she said with a dejected sigh. "Why do I have to be the grown-up tonight?"

Grumbling most of the time, she made her way over to his side after slipping on a robe, and draped one of his arms across her shoulders.

"Come along, Professor; we're going to take you back to your room."

Snape thought that was a splendid idea, and so was very cooperative. They took the long way down, avoiding corridors that would likely be occupied with late-night celebrators. Getting to his rooms at last, it only took Hermione a few minutes to figure out and break through the wards, a necessity since Severus was currently being decidedly unhelpful and was busy singing lewd songs. She managed to get him as far as the sitting room before his legs decided to give out entirely. Unable to hold up his dead-weight, they both fell to the floor in a heap.

"Professor," she said as she tried to untangle herself.

There was no response.

"Severus," she said, louder this time.

This time she got a light snore in reply; he was out cold.

She took the opportunity to examine his features closely. When he slept, many of the lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed, making him seem almost vulnerable. With another wistful sigh, she managed to pull herself out from underneath him, and levitated his unconscious form into the bedroom. He didn't stir as she carefully laid him in his bed.

And now, Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her generation, member of the Order of the Phoenix, and war-heroine extraordinaire, had a decision to make.

On the one hand, she could go back to her room, fall asleep alone, and try to pretend like none of this had happened…he probably wouldn't remember in the morning anyway.

On the other hand, Snape had a sinfully large bed.

Knowing that the former option was the right one, she was turning to leave when a page on the corner of his desk caught her eye. It was a copy of one of her potions essays from her fourth year. Their assignment had been to write three feet of parchment on the uses and application of a healing potion of their choice. Hermione's had been just over seven feet, because she had not only fulfilled the requirements, but had also expounded on a theoretical approach to modify the potion so that it would counteract some of the worst side-effects of the Cruciatus Curse. When it had been returned, she'd been devastated to see that all of his markings had been only on the assignment itself…with a note and point deduction at the end for being an overachieving know-it-all.

As she thumbed through the copy on his desk, her eyes grew wide. There were comments on these pages as well, but not ones she had seen. On this copy, the first section was summarily ignored, while her theories seemed to have been given quite a bit of attention. In fact, there were stacks of notes covering his desk on the very topic she'd written about.

Astonished, she turned to stare at the sleeping man who had captured her heart. As she watched, he pulled one of his pillows to him.

"Hermione," he murmured.

That decided it…she was staying. There was no way she was letting him off the hook after this. Besides, she argued with herself silently, now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, she was being forcibly reminded of just how knackered she really was. She'd be asleep in a hallway before she made it half-way back.

Mind made up, she resolutely turned around and made her way to his bed. It was a matter of moments to ease the pillow from his arms and place herself in its stead. Severus grumbled happily in his sleep, snaking his arms around her tightly and pulling her against him. She spent some time just laying there and enjoying the closeness before drifting off to sleep.

**ooOOoo**

Severus Snape awoke completely disoriented. There was something tickling his nose, but when he went to brush it away, he found his arms pinned down. Flashes of the final battle played through his head, and he groaned.

That's it, he thought, I'm dead, and in Hell, and I'm being tormented by this infernal tickling.

His eyes flew open in alarm as the object pinning him down also groaned. He had a chance to see a mop of bushy hair and the smooth curve of a bare shoulder before his eyes slammed shut in protest to the small amount of light they'd been subjected to. With a grimace, he focused on not ridding his stomach of its contents. The weight on his arm shifted, freeing it, and he heard someone else whimper. Good. At least he wasn't the only miserable one in the room.

The sound of someone clinking around in his storage cabinet was almost more than his delicate constitution could stand. Over the pounding of his head, he barely heard a thick voice muttering.

"I know you keep some around here, you swotty git."

It wasn't long after that when he felt a depression beside him on the bed, then there was someone pressing a vial into his hand and guiding it to his mouth.

"Hangover remedy," a scratchy voice said. "It'll help."

Someone could have been feeding him poison, for all his ability to decipher the label at that particular moment in time, but he rationalized that it couldn't possibility make him feel any worse than he already did. Bolting it back, his head began to clear almost instantly. His memory slowly started to return, and he winced when he remembered just how much alcohol he'd consumed. Cracking an eye cautiously, he was relieved to see there were no lingering aftereffects of last night's little binge. Except for the one sitting beside him in the bed, watching him with an eyebrow arched.

Other thoughts flashed through his mind. Did he sleep with her? The fact that his clothes were still on indicated that this was unlikely. Did he kiss her? He had vague recollections of an attempt, but didn't remember the actual event. Did he actually use the word "twinkly"? Here, he winced.

"Yes," she smirked. "You did use the word 'twinkly'…though you were under the influence of what I can only assume was copious quantities of alcohol."

"Oh shite," he muttered, burying his head in his hands. "I will be a complete laughingstock when people find out that little tidbit." He shuddered, not even wanting to contemplate the living hell this was going to be.

"That's if, Severus, not when," Hermione said, a hint of mischief coloring her tone.

His head snapped up, eyes widening, then narrowing just as quickly. She continued, feigning innocence.

"You see, I had quite a bit to drink as well. I think I might be...persuaded...to forget all about that little incident."

Snape's eyebrow climbed his forehead. The delectable little witch was actually flirting with him. And he'd seen her take the same hangover remedy he had, so he knew she wasn't drunk.

Wicked.

His hands reached out and pulled her down on top of him as his lips pulled up into a smirk.

"Well, Miss Granger, it seems you are in luck…I am feeling quite persuasive at the moment."

"How fortuitous for us both," she said slyly.

**ooOOoo**

It was a testament to the inebriation of the other inhabitants of the castle that they spent three blissful days in his rooms before anyone thought to check.

It was a testament to Hermione's influence on Snape that she was able to keep him from hexing the people who finally did the checking.

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**A/N: I would like to thank everyone for reading; I was going through one of my flash drives and realized that I'd been sitting on this fic for just over two years. It took me about 10 minutes to finish it. I know, I have no idea why it sat so long either. If you're feeling generous, reviews make me very happy.**

**On a side note, Hermione has convinced Severus to join the modern age and Twitter. If you're interested in following their antics, Rickmanlover24601 and I would love for you to look them up: HGKnowItAll and SSGreasyGit**


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